


At the Edge of Wild Space

by Greyias



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alliance Shenanigans, Angst, Feels, Female Friendship, Gen, Humor, Multiple Genres, Puns & Word Play, Supporting Cast: The Alliance Senior Staff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-23 22:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11999319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greyias/pseuds/Greyias
Summary: Asks & prompt fills from Tumblr with a gen slant. Mostly featuring the cast of KotFE.





	1. Pun War

**Author's Note:**

> All of these were originally posted on Tumblr (http://greyias.tumblr.com), but I'm trying to catch up on my cross-posting here. These are not necessarily in chronological order.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a pun war going on in the Alliance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some kind anon submitted a head canon into my ask box, and my reply sort of morphed into a fic based on it:
> 
> Hi hello I have a headcanon for you. Theron and Lana constantly challenging each other to come up with the best/worst puns to make the commander laugh or slip it in to chats with other people without them realising. Lana is in front at the moment. And each time they make the commander laugh or smile they owe the other person 5 credits and now koth has joined in and soon the whole alliance and the commander has no idea where all these puns or play on words are coming from idk

It all started when Lana made that quip about “Ready to commandeer, Commander?”. Theron tries to tease her mercilessly about it, but she just asks him if he’s jealous of her amazing wit. He sputters, and tells the most godawful pun known to man, which for some reason makes the Commander chortle in an undignified manner.

Then the betting starts, and it sort of… gets out of hand from there. Because neither of Lana nor Theron can resist a game of one-upmanship, and although they’d never admit it aloud, they do like seeing the commander be a little less serious every now and then with all of the drama she has to deal with leading the Alliance. 

When Koth gets wind of this, things quickly get out of hand (which tends to happen whenever he gets involved in things). Puns spread across the Odessen base like wildfire. 

The morale on base has never been higher, but the commander has never been more confused, as every so often she’ll pass someone who can’t help but make a comment:

>   
>  “Hey, Commander, I’m reading this holobook about anti-gravity. It’s impossible to put down!”
> 
> “Man, the search function on the GTN, am I right? I tried to find a lighter but all they had was 18,268 matches.”
> 
> “Don’t spell part backwards, Commander. It’s a trap.”  
>    
> 

The pot has become so ridiculously large that Gault’s eyes can’t help but light up as he starts and loses count of the number of commas and zeros. (”Imagine all of the Defiant Vented Lightsabers I could buy up and sell for an even _tidier_  profit!”) He schemes to come up with the one, ultimate pun to rule them all so he can claim the prize for himself. Lana learns of his plan, and not willing to let Gault steal her hard earned credits  _yet again_  she reluctantly teams up with Theron to defend ~~her retirement fund~~ their honor.

This leads to the most awkward and groan-inducing senior staff meeting the Alliance has ever witnessed.

It starts off tame at first, when the Commander asks if there’s any questions, Gault pipes up: “What do you have to do to have a party in space?” An audible groan goes up around the table, but he just waggles his eyebrows. “You have to Planet.”

“That wasn’t even  _punny_ ,” Lana shoots back.

“You just have no sense of humor, my dear.”

“I do, but it’s hard to explain puns to kleptomaniacs because they always take things literally.”

Gault’s eyes narrow, the gauntlet having been thrown down. “Oh, yeah, what do you get when you cross a joke with a rhetorical question?”

It quickly goes down hill from there. Puns, wordplay, and the worst dad jokes to ever be uttered start flying back and forth. The specialists are having none of this and quickly slip away, Hylo rolling her eyes so hard it’s a wonder she doesn’t sprain something. Soon Lana’s bringing Gault’s ancestry into question, and it’s not long before Koth and Kaliyo have a side-bet going on to at what point lightsabers and blasters are going to enter the mix.

Torian mutters something to himself darkly in Mando’a, but unfortunately its drowned out by horrendous excuse for humor at the other end of the table. It’s a shame too, because it was a real zinger. Of course, the verbal pun of mixing up gotabur and gota’tuur doesn’t translate over to Basic, so the plebeians in the room wouldn’t have laughed anyway.

“–and on the other hand, you have different fingers!” Gault raises his chin defiantly at Lana, who just sputters.

“When is a door not a door?” Theron chimes in, jabbing a finger in the Devaronian’s direction. “When it’s ajar!”

Lana grabs his hand and puts it back on the table firmly. “Theron, please don’t help.”

The saddest look that has ever been passes across his face as he slumps back into his chair, crossing his arms and looking very much like a two-year-old that’s been told to quiet down. “This is just like that time on Rishi.”

“No, it’s not–and will you stop bringing that up? You get someone captured and brutally tortured _one time_ –”

Kaliyo makes a disgusted noise and hands a credit chip over to Koth. Apparently they’d made a second side-bet on who’d be the first person to cry. Gault looks entirely too smug, and opens his mouth to deliver the final verbal blow, when someone clears their throat at the head of the table.

“As pun as this has all been, I think you guys are going about this in Alderaan ways.”

Silence falls over the table as the survivors of this most epic and pointless battle stare at the Commander and her horrible pun in abject horror. They are unable to find the words to articulate their feelings, especially when she grins at them, as if to say “Eh? Eh?”

Needless to say, the Commander wound up with the pot.


	2. Zakuulan Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the beginnings of the Alliance, Senya and the Outlander share a quiet moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: ❄ Down time with Senya

Days on Odessen were filled with the hard work and labor of starting something from scratch, the occasional cool mountain breeze bringing respite in between stretches of construction. The planet was wild, untouched and untamed, just waiting for someone to make their mark on it. Some construction continued after the sun set, for some of those who came preferred to work off their demons with the aid of lamps and torchlight. Camaraderie was a slow thing to establish, and while all came with the same purpose, their diverse backgrounds was proving to be a problem. On more than one occasion Senya had spied Lana, but more often than not, the Outlander who they had rescued step in to diffuse rising tempers.

The days may have been filled with work, noise, and conflict, but when dusk fell the burgeoning camp became another thing entirely. Guards wandered the edge of camp, always on alert for signs of encroaching wildlife — with everyone else keeping an eye on the sky for a far more dangerous predator. The drone of arguments from long warring factions gave way to the buzz of insects, the crackle of campfire, and the distant cry of the pack of Shade Stalkers that had been stalking the edges of camp for the past week. The interior of the base would be shored up within another day or so, and they could start moving sleeping quarters there instead of inside the Gravestone and out under the stars.

Having a room, a place of her own, after being on the move for so long was going to be a change for Senya. She had a feeling she would not be the only one.

She moved into the light of the campfire seated near the edge of the cliff, footfalls softened out of habit. The younger woman on the edge of the fire’s light hadn’t seemed to notice her approach at first, fingers lightly tracing the screen of a datapad as if whatever was inscribed on there was of great importance. It possibly was, as tonight was not the only time she had spied the behavior — but Senya hadn’t asked. Something about the action seemed too private, and she was not one to pry. Instead she let her boot come down on a twig with a loud crunch to announce her presence.

“Senya,” came the greeting, “you’re up late.”

“I could say the same of you, Outlander.” She let her gaze wander up to the nebulae visible beyond the clouds streaking the sky. So much like home, but different as things were on every world she had been to. “It’s nice to get a break from everyone, don’t you agree?”

She looked like she wanted to say something to the contrary, gaze briefly flicking away from Senya to something unseen beyond the firelight. “It can get loud at times. The night is quiet — in its own way.”

Quiet of arguing voices and endless construction, yes, but sometimes silence could be the loudest thing of all. It left one too much time to dwell on what could have been, rather than on what was coming. It didn’t matter which direction Senya looked, she would see her children and the ways in which she had failed them — and the ways in which she would have to do so again if they were to ever be saved from themselves. The only moments she had free from that were the ones right now.

“Do you mind if I join you? If you would rather be alone…”

“No, of course not.” The datapad, seemingly forgotten, was slipped into an inner pocket of the cloak that had been donned to ward off the night’s chill. “I’m not really alone, am I?”

Senya pressed her lips together as she settled in next to the other woman, musing on those words. It could have been a dig, but she had gotten to know this Outlander well enough that she was not one for passive aggressive remarks. She instead spoke of the ghost that still lurked somewhere in the back of her mind. Senya could not deny her curiosity, her lingering feelings for the man who had fathered her children — but even those were overridden by the darker memories. Of her daughter’s drawn face, the cold stare of someone far older, far more angry and dangerous than the little girl she had left behind. Vaylin’s blue eyes forever darkened to an angry amber of someone gripped by an unbridled hatred for what had been done to her. What her mother had been unable to prevent.

She shook her head, trying to return herself to the here and now. Perhaps this was why she did not spend much time with this woman, the lingering presence of Valkorion erected an invisible wall, staining their interactions with the sins of both of their pasts. It wasn’t as strong as it was before the destruction of Asylum, like he was slumbering — waiting for something.

The others here looked to this woman for guidance, for hope. But when they looked away, Senya saw something else. Shoulders sagging under the weight of a tremendous burden, a smile that faded just as soon she thought no one could see. When Lana had spoken of the Outlander that could stop Arcann’s galactic conquest, she seemed to speak of some mythical person who could take on the galaxy. And she could do many of these great things — she had already inspired an entire movement behind her. But there was still a person behind all of that, one who it seemed had more burdens than just the ones imposed on her.

“There’s a very old song my mother used to sing to me,” Senya said quietly, watching as the flames of the campfire flickered into the evening air, “she said it was from the times when the Gods were young.”

“I don’t think you’ve sung that one before.”

“I like to share the happier ones usually. Bring a smile to others faces, rather than tears. We get enough of those just from day-to-day, don’t we?”

“Is it sad?”

“Happier than most from those days.” A strong breeze blew past, tossing the black loose hair that had escaped the tight bun up into the air. “The Gods were often cruel. It didn’t make for many happy stories. Most were about finding the strength to carry on from day to day. It wasn’t really a lullaby for children.”

“Then why did your mother sing it to you?”

“I was very headstrong when I was young, and I didn’t always make the best decisions. I think she might have been trying to help reign me in.”

“That is not an unfamiliar story. My mother was very much the same.”

Senya felt her brows raising quizzically. “I was under the impression that your kind did not have families.”

Most of her knowledge of the Jedi had come from those who had joined their camp and snatches she had heard over the years — one did not tend to learn much about the enemy on the battlefield outside of their ferocity.

“My Order has— _had_ its own way of doing things. Not right or wrong, just… different.”

The correction to past tense didn’t escape Senya’s notice, and for a moment she considered saying something, but in the end she let it drop. As she usually did. She may have been a Knight from a different Order and believed in different things — but she understood the feeling of belonging, of _purpose_ of serving. And whether their greater calling was a devotion to justice, or the preservation of peace — at the end of the day both of them were Knights that no longer belonged anywhere. Whether exiled or almost extinct, they were still alone on a wild world with only a fire to keep them warm.

“My mother used to sing to me too,” the quiet voice spoke after a very long pause, “although I can’t remember the words anymore. Or even the tune. But I still remember the warm feeling it gave me.”

Senya glanced down, and noticed that the datapad had made a reappearance in the Outlander’s lap, her fingers absently brushing across the screen even though it was powered down. She opened her mouth to say something, to broach that invisible wall — but instead of a prying question, what came out were the words of her mother’s old song, first just a whisper on the breeze. She had always meant to teach it to Vaylin, but she had never gotten a chance. It would have felt wrong to share it with a stranger, but this Outlander wasn’t exactly that either. Senya continued, as she remembered the old verses her voice rose from a whisper and became a soft tune. It was not her best performance, she was too rusty and unwilling to raise her voice enough for the rest of the camp to hear — but for a moment that invisible wall came down and she saw a wistful, grateful smile form on her companion’s face. Senya continued to croon quietly, letting the wind carry the words away into the night.


End file.
